The Fandom Menace
by Amanda Straw
Summary: Incredibly dated self-insert posted only so I could link to it.


Standard disclaimer: They're not mine. They never will be. They belong to CC and 1013. Please don't sue me; it can't be worth it.   
  
---  
  
"Tell me again why you volunteered me for this?" asked Scully, exasperated.   
  
"You owe me," replied Mulder.  
  
"How do you figure that?"  
  
"Who just happened to be passing by the office when you discovered that the coffee machine was out of filters, and who politely volunteered to go out and get more at eleven-thirty at night?"  
  
"Okay, okay," Scully conceded. "But that's nothing compared to what you've asked of me. After tonight, you'll owe me your firstborn."  
  
Mulder paused a second, then muttered under his breath, "You'll probably be getting it anyway."  
  
When they pulled up to the parking lot, it was filled with tents, sleeping bags, and a seventy-five-member line. "How long have they been here?" asked Scully.  
  
"I think they showed up a week before last Friday," Mulder answered.  
  
"You've got to be kidding," muttered Scully as she got out of the car. Mulder opened the back door and pulled out Scully's sleeping bag. "Think fast."  
  
"Mulder!" Scully yelled as a flying sleeping bag careened at her head. Flinching, she grabbed the bag just before it hit the car behind her. "Don't you ever--"  
  
"Okay, okay," he replied. "I hope your sense of humor isn't still in your apartment, Scully. Believe me, you've never needed it more." He pulled his own sleeping bag and backpack out of the backseat and closed the door. "You ready?"  
  
"I'll never be ready for this," she muttered, trudging toward the line.  
  
"Hey, Mulder, didn't know you were bringing the lovely agent Scully along!" said Frohike with a big smile. "What a wonderful surprise!"  
  
"Have a seat," said Langly, handing her a battered lawn chair. She sat in it tentatively, just waiting for the seat to fall out or the legs to crack. After a second, she relaxed, hoping her luck would hold. Mulder sat down on top of the cooler that sat beside Byers.  
  
Scully glanced around at the rest of the line, taking in the general atmosphere. There were mostly teenagers and young adults, although a couple of groups boasted thirty-five and forty-year-olds--all male, she noticed. Of course, what was she expecting? It _was_ the "Phantom Menace" line, after all.   
  
A burst of laughter caught her attention. It came from the group of teenagers in front of them. There were two boys about seventeen years old and two girls the same age. The boys sported long brown robes while the girls wore jeans and t-shirts. They were sitting on a thick blanket and rolling strange-looking colored dice. Every now and then Scully caught snatches of conversation.  
  
"Seventy-six...ha ha, you're screwed!"  
  
"Yeah, well, at least _I_ still have hyperjets!"  
  
"Not once I get through with you!"  
  
"You're not going to pull that Death Star 2 crap again, are you? That can't be legal."  
  
"It's legal if I say it is, mortal!"  
  
"Shut up, Bryan."  
  
"You better watch it, 'cause I can turn you into anything from an Ewok to bantha fodder!"  
  
*Absolutely delusional*, thought Scully as she tuned back in to the Lone Gunmen's conversation. *I'd rather talk for three hours about the scientific inaccuracies of "Sliders" than listen to another second of that*.  
  
But soon the conversation lulled, and Scully decided to see if any of the Gunmen could translate what she'd overheard from the teenagers' camp. "Do you know what those kids in front of us are doing with those dice and those costumes?"  
  
"They're probably role-players," replied Langly, "although D&D's pretty much died out since the Internet gaming villages took over. They might be playing the Star Wars game. They're always holding lightsaber duels till all hours."  
  
Mulder rolled his eyes. Scully was glad to know that he didn't completely buy into all this sci-fi geek culture crap.   
  
"Did you ever indulge in the classic sci-fi pursuits, Mulder?" she asked.  
  
"Not really," he answered. "I went to a couple of conventions in college, but I was never that into it. What about you, Scully? Too logical for sci-fi?"  
  
"I had a boyfriend in college who was an all-around fan. You know, Star Trek, Star Wars, wargaming...but that was never my thing. I did read Anne McCaffrey for a while, though. I think I still have the whole Dragonrider series somewhere."  
  
Frohike grinned. "Well, it's a start."  
  
"You've seen Star Wars, right?" asked Langly.  
  
"Yeah, it was a big thing in my dorm. There were always geeky guys in the lounge either watching the entire trilogy uninterrupted or having all-night Star Trek marathons. I'd go sometimes if there was nothing better going on..."  
  
A loud crash cut her off. She turned to see a smattering of glass pieces on the ground near the camp in front of them. One of the boys jumped up and started yelling. "Man, that was the working lightsaber! I _told_ you not to touch that, asshole!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" replied the other boy.   
  
"Apologize to Juliana, she's the one who built it."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sorry, Juliana," the boy replied, chastised.  
  
"It doesn't matter. I can make another one at home. I just have to get another neon tube," Juliana said.  
  
"Doom, Myst, and Quake killed D&D," remarked Langly. "In fact, I'd say that the PC in general killed the classic D&D. Who wants to sit around for 12 hours and talk and roll dice when you can go on virtual trips to any corner of the globe instead?"  
  
"I don't think the PC alone did it, though," ventured Byers. "I'd say it was the Internet and the 3D graphics accelerators. With a basement and a live game master, one had to work around the different gamers' schedules. Once the games moved onto the Web, one could go on anytime, anywhere and play with thousands of gamers. Why, the Ultima game alone now has 125,000 players and Everquest probably has more than 100,000."  
  
"Plus, those games you can see and hear," Frohike added. "In D&D you just have to imagine the action, so unless you're extremely imaginative it doesn't seem that real. When you can see the images, it's more real so it's more fun."  
  
"Frohike, is there beer in this thing?" asked Mulder, tapping the cooler on which he was sitting.   
  
"Yeah, dude, help yourself."  
  
"Thank God," muttered Scully under her breath. "I'm gonna need alcohol to survive *this* night."  
  
  
"Scully, would you like to take a walk?" asked Mulder.  
  
"I'd love to," she replied.  
  
They got up and walked around the parking lot. "I know this must seem like a complete...um, well, I'm sorry I dragged you into this."  
  
"Mulder, it's not that bad." She prayed he couldn't hear what she was _really_ thinking. "I've been wondering, why did you agree to this, anyway? It doesn't look like you're enjoying it."  
  
"I used to be one of those sci-fi geeks, kind of," he admitted. "I thought it might be fun, you know, reliving old times. But it's kind of lame, and I can tell you're not enjoying it, so I feel bad about dragging you out here."  
  
"Oh, Mulder, it's not that bad," Scully replied. "If I had any clue what language they were speaking, I might enjoy myself. Can you still translate?"  
  
Mulder chuckled. "A little. D&D is Dungeons and Dragons, a role-playing game where pathetic fifteen-year-old guys with no lives and no girlfriends sit around in their friends' basements and pretend that they're elves and warriors and magicians going on quests in medieval Europe."  
  
"What about those people next to us?"  
  
"Probably a D&D variation involving the Star Wars galaxy," Mulder answered.   
  
"What about the 'Sliders' thing?"  
  
"It's a show about people who 'slide' to alternate universes."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"One more thing," answered Scully, grinning. "What's 'bantha fodder'?"  
They ambled slowly back to the camp, taking in the fresh night air and gazing at the stars. When they got back, they each grabbed a beer and listened halfheartedly to a debate about the MP3 player and the conspiracy to destroy the music industry. About ten minutes had passed when they heard a scream from the camp next door. "Bryan!"  
  
Scully jumped up and jogged over. She saw one of the boys lying on the ground. A short redheaded girl was kneeling beside him.   
  
"I'm a doctor," announced Scully. "Do you need help?"  
  
"He got hit in the face. I think he's unconscious," said the girl.  
  
Scully knelt down on the ground. The boy was bleeding from a cut above his right eye. "What did he get hit with?"  
  
"A plastic lightsaber. It broke his glasses."  
  
Scully nodded. "Do you have a flashlight?"  
  
"Yeah," answered the girl. "Emma, could you...?"  
  
"Sure," said a tall blonde girl. She reached into a backpack and handed the flashlight to Scully.   
  
Scully opened the boy's left eyelid and shined the flashlight quickly into his eye. "Pupils reactive to light, that's good. He probably won't have a concussion." She looked at the blood on his right eye. "Do you have a towel?"  
  
Emma grabbed one from her backpack. "Thanks," said Scully. She wiped the blood carefully from the boy's face. Using the flashlight, she carefully examined the gash. "He'll need stitches. Do you guys have a car here?"  
  
"Bryan drove here," replied the redheaded girl. She turned to her friends. "Can you guys drive stick?"  
  
"No," they both replied.   
  
"I can, but I only have a learner's permit. You're not eighteen yet, Emma, right?" Emma nodded. "What about you, Adam?"  
  
"Sorry, Juliana."  
  
"I could go with you," offered Scully. Just then the boy moaned.   
  
"Bryan? You okay?" asked Juliana, stroking his cheek.  
  
"Not really," he replied.  
  
"It's okay," said Juliana softly. "We're going to take you to the hospital and everything will be fine."  
  
"It's...almost twelve...we have to..."  
  
"Emma and Adam can take care of it. Come on, honey, we have to go now."  
  
Scully pressed the towel to Bryan's eye and guided his hand to it. "Keep pressure on this. It'll stop the bleeding."  
  
Juliana reached down and put her arm around Bryan's shoulders. "Come on, time to get up." She gently guided him to his car.  
  
"I'll be there in a second," called Scully. She went back to the Lone Gunmen's camp. "I have to go...there's been an accident. I have to take one of those kids over there to the hospital."  
  
"Do you want me to drive?" asked Mulder.  
  
"They have their own car, but..." Scully's voice trailed off. *I get it. Okay, I'll get you off the hook*. "I'll go check."  
  
She walked over to Bryan's car. "Would you mind if my partner and I took you? I think we're heading in the same direction."  
  
"I think so," said Juliana, glancing quickly at Bryan. "Where's your car?"  
  
"One row down and eight spaces to the left," answered Scully.  
  
Juliana helped Bryan out of the car and they slowly started toward Mulder's car. Meanwhile, Mulder had taken the liberty of grabbing his and Scully's gear from the camp. He threw it in the trunk and jumped in the front seat.   
  
"Thank you guys so much for helping us out," said Juliana. "We really appreciate it."  
  
"So do we," replied Scully, grinning knowingly at Mulder.  
  
  
Mulder breezed into the office the next morning with one hand behind his back. "So, did last night turn you off to Star Wars entirely?"  
  
"Mulder, don't tell me you went back to that line!"  
  
"No, the guys were nice enough to pick up two extra tickets. So, how does 8:30 sound?"  
  
She grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." 


End file.
